We left the cabin behind at dawn, the structure shrinking into the wilderness as we ventured deeper into the forest. My tendrils adjusted seamlessly to the uneven terrain, occasionally acting as braces to steady me against tree trunks when necessary. Arctur led our small procession, his scaled form weaving confidently between the dense vegetation. Casper brought up the rear, his experienced eyes scanning constantly for threats.

The morning dew evaporated around us as sunlight filtered through the canopy, creating dappled patterns on the forest floor. Birds quieted as we passed, their instincts recognizing the predators in their midst.

What route will we take to reach the Central Hellzone? I asked Arctur after we'd been walking for several hours. You're our guide, after all.

The lizardman glanced back, his yellow eyes reflecting the scattered sunlight. "We'll follow the path I took to reach the Academy, just in reverse. No human roads; they're too dangerous for monsters. We'll continue south through these woods until we reach the Shorkath Mountains."

The mountains? I processed this information against my fragmented knowledge of geography.

"Humans don't settle there," Arctur explained. "Too rocky, too cold. Makes them perfect for our kind to travel through. We can follow them all the way south until we reach the Central Hellzone."

Casper pulled a weathered map from his pack, unfolding it with practiced movements. His eyes traced the route Arctur had described, nodding slowly.

"Smart route," he admitted grudgingly. "Cuts through several kingdom borders without crossing any checkpoints." His finger continued along the parchment until it stopped suddenly. His expression darkened. "This path crosses into Lathan."

The name triggered fragments of knowledge in my mind. The name was familiar, heard in lectures from Academy history classes as well as from whispered stories among the students.

Isn't Lathan where the Plague of Dead occurred? I asked. Three hundred years ago, an epidemic occurred in the Lathan region of the Kingdom of Silk, killing everyone there and turning them into mindless, frenzied undead abominations. Heroes from around the kingdoms eventually destroyed the source of the plague, though the undead legions still remained within Lathan's borders.

Casper folded the map with sharp, agitated movements. "Yes. The entire region is quarantined, and for good reason. Going there risks infection, not to mention the thousands of undead still wandering those lands."

Arctur's tail swished dismissively. "My people have traveled through Lathan for years to avoid humans. None have become infected."

"That might be fine for you," Casper growled, "but I'm still human. The plague affects my kind."

The lizardman's scales rippled in what I recognized as their equivalent of a shrug. "Not my problem. I was tasked with bringing Widow to the Hellzone. Just Widow. You are not my concern."

"You miserable lizard-" Casper's hand moved toward his greatsword, muscles tensing with practiced efficiency.

Stop. My whispery mental voice wasn't loud, but it carried an authority that surprised even me. Casper's hand froze mid-motion, then dropped back to his side. The Berserker's loyalty was immediate and complete.

I turned to Arctur. We won't take your route if it needlessly endangers any member of our group.

The lizardman's throat sac expanded and contracted in what I'd come to recognize as a sigh. "Fine. Don't worry so much. My people have taken humans through Lathan before. None became infected."

"That's impossible," Casper interjected. "The plague-"

"Is likely a lie spread by human kingdoms," Arctur finished. "There is no plague. At least none that I could see when I journeyed through Lathan."

"Then where did all the undead come from?" Casper challenged.

Arctur's tongue flicked out briefly. "Perhaps you should ask your gods about that."

I detected rising tensions that would only waste energy we needed for the journey ahead. Both of you, enough. Save your strength for walking. We have a long way to go.

Their arguments subsided into tense silence. Arctur resumed leading us south, while Casper maintained a vigilant watch from behind. I walked between them, my mechanical frame tireless, my mind calculating the implications of what Arctur had suggested about Lathan.

If there was no plague, then what exactly had happened there three hundred years ago? And why would the gods perpetuate such a lie?

The questions lingered as we continued our journey, shadows lengthening across the forest floor as the day progressed.

Days melted together as we traversed the wilderness. My mechanical frame required no rest, unlike my companions who needed sleep and sustenance. During their rest periods, I deployed my scout spiders in expanding circles around our position, their eight legs carrying them silently through the undergrowth while transmitting sensory data back to me.

The forest teemed with life, most of it harmless. A pack of wolves tracked us for half a day before veering away, their alpha sensing something unnatural about our group. A massive brown bear with cubs altered its foraging path to avoid crossing ours, maternal instinct overriding territorial aggression.

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On the fourth night, while Arctur slept and Casper kept watch, I directed my focus toward my companions. My Analyze ability activated with a thought.

Name: Arctur

Level: 30

Species: Lizardman [Monster]

Gender: Male

Age: 25

Strength: 40

Endurance: 42

Dexterity: 37

Intelligence: 27

Wisdom: 23

His stats had improved significantly since our fight in the tournament. He had clearly been using his time wisely, either training or taking time in the Academy Hellzone to gain experience.

I shifted my attention to Casper.

Name: Casper the Manslayer

Class: Berserker

Level: 70

Species: Sapien [Human]

Gender: Male

Age: 53

Strength: 145

Endurance: 136

Dexterity: 132

Intelligence: 66

Wisdom: 89

His power remained formidable, unchanged since I'd last analyzed him. The System classified him as a Berserker, a class I'd heard mentioned but never fully understood.

What exactly does being a Berserker entail? I asked, my mental voice breaking the night's silence.

Casper looked up from sharpening his blade. Firelight cast deep shadows across the planes of his weathered face. "Curious about your loyal servant's capabilities?"

Knowledge is power.

A thin smile crossed his face. "True enough. Berserkers tap into primal rage to enhance our combat abilities. When we enter what's called the Berserk state, our physical stats double for a short time."

That sounds advantageous.

"It would be," he said, testing his blade's edge with his thumb, "if we didn't lose our minds in the process. Most Berserkers become mindless killing machines, attacking anything that moves: enemies, allies, innocent bystanders." His voice hardened. "That's why few Berserkers reach past level 40. Most get put down by their own companions when they go too far."

Yet you're level 70.

The firelight caught his eyes as he looked up. "I'm unique."

The rumors at the Academy suggested you maintain control during your Berserk state.

"They weren't rumors." His smile turned bitter. "I'm the only Berserker in recorded history who keeps his sanity while in the Berserk state. Makes me valuable. Also makes me dangerous."

How is that possible?

Casper shrugged, sheathing his sword with practiced efficiency. "No idea. Could be a fluke in the System. Could be something in my bloodline. The gods haven't struck me down for it, so I don't question my good fortune."

I detected a practiced casualness in his response that suggested he'd given this answer many times before. Whether he truly didn't know or chose not to share, I couldn't determine.

A fortunate anomaly indeed, I replied, letting the subject drop.

Arctur stirred in his sleep, tail twitching as he dreamed. One of my scout spiders detected a nocturnal predator (a mountain lion) circling our camp, but it soon departed, deterred by the fire and our scents.

Weeks blurred together as we pushed deeper into the wilderness. The forest canopy above us thickened, then thinned, as we gradually ascended into the foothills of a nearby mountain range. Although Arctur's route successfully bypassed the kingdoms' checkpoints, progress crawled compared to traveling on human-built roads.

This journey would take three months via the highways, I observed one evening, plotting our trajectory against my internal maps. At our current pace, we're looking at half a year minimum.

Casper grunted agreement. "And that's assuming perfect conditions."

Perfect conditions proved elusive. The weather turned against us as we entered the fifth week. Dark clouds gathered overhead, the air becoming dense with electricity. Lightning forked across the darkened sky, followed by thunder that shook the ground beneath us.

"There," Arctur pointed toward a shadowy opening in the mountainside ahead. "Cave system. We can wait out the storm."

We reached the cave entrance just as the heavens opened. Rain fell in sheets, turning the forest floor into a muddy river within minutes. The cave proved surprisingly spacious, extending deep into the mountain with a high ceiling that allowed even Arctur to stand comfortably.

While my companions built a small fire near the entrance, I took inventory of our supplies. The journey had been hard on our equipment. Casper's boots were coming apart at the seams, the leather cracked from constant exposure to the elements.

May I? I gestured toward his footwear.

Casper kicked off his boots and passed them over. "They've seen better days."

I activated my Assembly ability, feeling the familiar rush of power flow through my fingertips. The leather responded to my touch, fibers reconnecting, worn patches strengthening. I reinforced the soles with material harvested from a fallen tree days earlier, now processed and ready for application.

The boots came together under my ministrations, emerging stronger than before. I passed them back to Casper, who examined my work with an appreciative eye.

"Better than new," he acknowledged, pulling them on.

I turned toward Arctur, who was stirring a pot of stew over the fire. Anything of yours need repair?

The lizardman hesitated, then reached for his pack. "This has a tear that's getting worse." He handed over a canvas rucksack with a substantial rip along one side.

I examined the damage. Simple enough. My Assembly ability activated again, the fibers of the canvas knitting together under my direction. I reinforced the seams and waterproofed the material while I was at it.

"Thank you," Arctur said when I returned it, his gravelly voice carrying genuine gratitude for the first time since we'd met.

My gaze drifted to the collapsed red spear leaning against the cave wall beside him. The weapon had intrigued me since I first saw it at the Academy.

What about your weapon? It could use some maintenance.

Arctur's hand moved protectively toward the spear. "No. It doesn't need repair."

All weapons require maintenance eventually, I countered. I could examine it, perhaps even improve its functionality. My intentions weren't entirely altruistic; I wanted to understand how the unusual weapon worked, its composition, its mechanisms.

"No," he repeated firmly. "The spear was a gift from the Prophet. It never breaks."

That's impossible, I said, irritation rising in my voice. No material is invulnerable to wear. The laws of physics apply to all matter.

Something flickered in Arctur's reptilian eyes. Pride, perhaps, or amusement at my skepticism. In one fluid motion, he grabbed the collapsed spear and rose to his feet.

"Watch," he commanded.

The weapon extended with a metallic hiss, segments locking into place until it reached its full impressive length. Without warning, Arctur hurled it at the cave wall with tremendous force.

The spear struck solid stone and penetrated deep, embedding itself halfway to the shaft. Casper flinched at the impact, hand instinctively moving toward his sword.

Arctur extended his clawed hand. The spear wrenched free from the stone and sailed back through the air, landing perfectly in his grasp. He held it toward me, presenting the blade for inspection.

The edge remained pristine; no chips, no scratches, no dulling whatsoever. The stone had yielded, but the weapon remained unmarked.

"See?" Arctur's mouth curled into what passed for a lizardman smile. "Invincible."

I frowned. Now I wanted to examine that damn spear even more.

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